Because 'Tradition'
by Tangled4ever
Summary: After learning Félicie never had a real Christmas before, Camille, Dora and Nora decide to make this the best Christmas ever, complete with Nora's favourite holiday tradition - mistletoe. Happy Birthday Scar Stones
1. Chapter 1

**Hey dreamers! :) I've got another fic for you, and it's the first of many Odette x Merante fics to come. I'm pretty sure this is also the first Christmas Ballerina fic too, but I'll have to check on that one.**

 **This is a very special fic, because it's dedicated to my first friend in the Ballerina fandom and fellow Mérandette shipper, Scar Stones. I hoped to have this all finished for her birthday, but with all the stress of home and uni it just wasn't possible. But on the plus side, it gives me time to make it even better, and the final chapter should be up on either Christmas Eve or Christmas Day.**

 **~ Written for Scar Stones ~**

 **Happy Sweet 16th Birthday! :D**

 **I hope you enjoy reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

 **Shout-Out to my Dad for the amazing cover! :)**

 **.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.**

 **Chapter 1**

Thunderous applause echoed throughout the dark theatre, loud enough to rival the pounding of her own heart. A dull ache throbbed in her cheeks from smiling so much, and her limbs felt as though they could just fall off her body, but Félicie was too happy to care, holding her final pose until the red velvet curtain pooled on stage in front of her.

"You did it."

The young ballerina stood up properly, stretching her tired muscles as she did so, then smiled at the woman beside her. "Was I ok?"

"You did wonderfully, Félicie." Rosita smiled at the girl, then nodded towards the backstage area. "You have people waiting for you."

Félicie said nothing; only smiled as she quickly walked off stage. So much had changed in such a little amount of time. When she first set foot in Paris, she had nothing but the clothes on her back, her childhood friend by her side, and a music box and half a postcard in her pocket; a naïve dreamer not yet prepared for the world she was throwing herself into. But now, she had everything she could need and more. And it was all back there waiting for her…

Forgetting for a moment how tired she was, Félicie ran into her mentor's arms, smiling as she felt her nurturing arms wrap around her body.

"I knew you could do it..."

She couldn't see Odette's face, but she could somehow sense that she was smiling. The red-haired girl cast a quick glance up at her instructor, a smile forming on her own lips, "Well, I do have a good teacher."

The former ballerina gave her one last hug, then pulled back to let her see her smile. Félicie tilted her head a little, trying to take in her mentor's face in the dim light, "Are you ok? Your face looks a little pink."

Somehow pointing it out made it more noticeable, and Odette nervously tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, "I'm fine. Just proud..."

Félicie raised an eyebrow, pondering whether or not to question her, but was stopped by a voice calling her name.

"Félicie!"

Looking up in surprise, she smiled at the blonde rushing over to her, "Camille!"

Camille gave her a quick hug, then stepped back to talk, "Sorry I'm so late. The police showed up just after you left. I guess someone must have heard you screaming."

"The police?" Mérante was the one to speak this time, one eyebrow raised in concern.

"My mother tried to kill Félicie," Camille explained, Félicie adding, "That's why I was so late."

Odette's eyes flashed with terror, but Camille continued to speak, "Thankfully they had enough evidence to arrest her on the spot. My aunt Genevieve has full custody of me now."

As if on que, a tall woman walked up towards them. She was strikingly similar to Régine in appearance, but her features were softer and she was substantially less 'done up'.

Odette gave the woman a nod, "Genevieve."

"Hello Odette, it's lovely to see you again," the woman – Genevieve – smiled. "Camille told me everything. I'm so sorry for what my sister did to you both."

Odette shrugged a little response. "Well, I didn't exactly help matters…

"Nevertheless, you put up with a lot over the years. I'd understand if you said no, but perhaps you might consider working for me instead?"

There was a moment of silence while she thought about it, but after receiving an encouraging smile from Félicie, Odette nodded in agreement.

Genevieve smiled, gesturing towards the door, "Let's go gather your things."

Before long, everyone had gone their separate ways, leaving only the five kids on an empty stage.

"Well," Dora started. "I think we can say tonight was a success."

"I know, and tomorrow's the biggest day of the year!" Nora added, clapping her hands as she bounced on her toes.

Félicie laughed at her antics, "Calm down Nora. It's just Christmas."

Much to hers and Victor's surprise, Nora gasped in horror, suddenly unable to form one coherent syllable. She was clearly in a state of utter disbelief, but neither could comprehend why.

Dora rolled her eyes at her twin, then rested her hands on her sister's shoulders, "Easy Nora. _Deep_ breaths…"

Nora did as she was told, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, then promptly exclaimed, " _ **Just**_ _Christmas?!_ Just, just- _**how?!**_ "

Félicie merely shrugged, failing to see what the fuss was about, "You guys already know I was brought up in the orphanage…"

"I know, but it's still Christmas! The Christmas Eve feast, decorating the tree, Christmas Logs, singing carols, leaving your shoes by the fireplace, the Galette of Kings, _mistletoe!_ " Nora continued, practically squealing that last one.

The two orphans shared a confused look, before Félicie interjected again, "Uh Nora, we've never even _heard_ of most of that stuff…"

"What about presents? You at least get presents, right?"

"We get new clothes. That counts…" Victor commented, but was quickly shot down.

" _No it does not count!_ "

Félicie shrugged a shoulder, unsure what she was supposed to say to them. They were nice girls, but they'd all lived a life of luxury, whereas she and Victor hadn't. She didn't envy them in the least, nor did she blame Mother Superior for the struggles she'd faced growing up, but trying to explain all that was becoming unsettling.

"There were a lot of us. Any money the orphanage got went to looking after everyone."

Victor nodded in agreement, "As far as Mother Superior was concerned, all the presents in the world wouldn't help us if we were starving, cold and sick in bed."

"So… You've _never_ had a real Christmas before?" Dora asked as she stood beside her sister, who finally seemed to be taking in what she was hearing.

Félicie and Victor shuffled their feet on the polished floor, avoiding eye contact with both the girls and each other. Camille and the twins looked amongst themselves, knowing all-too-well the answer was 'yes'. All three felt terrible for them, but none more so than Camille. She'd taken Félicie's upbringing and slammed it in her face, all over a part in a ballet that she didn't _really_ want.

"All those things I said to you before the final audition… I'm so sorry Félicie. I… I had no idea."

Félicie smiled reassuringly, waving it off, "It's ok. We're here now. Maybe this is our chance to learn…"

At that, Nora gave an almost dramatic gasp, then turned to her twin and grabbed her by the shoulders. "I just had, the _best_ idea! Félicie and Victor have never had a proper Christmas before; _we_ know everything about it. We can teach them all about our favourite holiday traditions!"

"Nora, that's a great idea!" Dora smiled. "In fact, I know how to make it even better."

Without another word, Dora led them down the sculpted hallways, until they found the cheerful giant that was the Director of the Opera.

"Our families are old friends. We go to his Christmas party every year," Dora explained. "Perhaps he'd be willing to let you come as well."

Director Vaucorbeil turned at the sound of footsteps, and smiled at the four young dancers and Félicie's friend.

"Ah, good evening girls!" he greeted merrily, before taking Félicie's hand. "Congratulations, Miss Lebras. You were exquisite."

Félicie smiled as he lightly kissed the back of her hand, and did her best to curtsy, "Thank you sir."

"So, what can I do for you ladies?"

"I know it's a little impolite to be asking, but my sister and I were hoping we could bring Félicie, Victor and Camille to the party tomorrow," Dora asked as respectfully as possible. "They didn't really celebrate it at the orphanage, so in a way, this is Félicie and Victor's first Christmas."

"But of course! The more the merrier," Director Vaucorbeil replied, a hand over his heart as he bowed his head good-naturedly. "Camille, I heard Odette will be working for your aunt from now on…"

"Yes sir," Camille replied. "She's helping Odette get her things from the attic now."

"Excellent," the man beamed, clapping his hands together. "Perhaps now she'll finally be able to come as well. Anyway, I'll see you five tomorrow. Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Monsieur!"

"Have a safe trip home!"

The director gave them a friendly wave before walking away, and Nora immediately resumed jumping around in excitement, "This is going to be the best Christmas ever!"

Félicie opened her mouth to reply, but the words vanished when she noticed the confusion written in Camille's face.

"You ok, Camille?"

"Yeah, just… Dora, what did Director Vaucorbeil mean when he said about Odette finally coming?"

"He and Odette were good friends back in the day. He invites her every year, but she always too busy working for your mother."

Camille's brow creased, her puzzled expression ever more prominent. "That doesn't make any sense…"

Victor shrugged, "Why not?"

"Odette's worked for my mother my entire life. I know her schedule by heart; 24 hours a day, 365 days a year." Camille explained. "In all that time, not _once_ has my mother worked her late on Christmas Day."

"Really, _never_?"

" _Never_. Every year, my mother always hosted a party for her upper-class friends. So, every Christmas, she'd work Odette double time to get the house looking spotless by 4 o'clock, then she pretty much _banished_ her to her rooms." Camille paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. "If Director Vaucorbeil _had_ been inviting her like you said, not only could she have easily slipped away without Mother noticing, but even if she _had_ noticed, she'd be _glad_ to have her out of her sight."

"That's _weird_ …" Nora stated, making a face to emphasise her point.

Dora nodded in agreement, "Yeah, why would Odette lie about something like that?"

"I don't know…" Félicie mused. "I'll talk to her tonight. Maybe she'll open up to me…"

"Well, it'd be good if you _could_ get her to come," Dora smiled.

"Yeah! She can be one of my victims." Nora rubbed her hands together, sporting a devilish grin that brought the other four to silence.

Eventually, Félicie mustered the courage to look at Dora, who was simply smirking at her sister. "Victims?"

"Trust me Félicie, you'll find out tomorrow."

* * *

Unlike her last coach ride, Félicie couldn't help but find the rhythmic skip of horseshoes on the cobblestone roads oddly relaxing. Up until now, the snow-cover had been unusually light for this time of year, but in the last few hours, large clouds of it had accumulated on every sidewalk and every rooftop, just in time for a _true_ white Christmas. But of course, the effects of this had been almost instantaneous. No sooner had Odette stepped outside, walking on her limp became next to impossible. And so, the pair had found themselves making the short trip home by coach with Camille and Genevieve.

Her head propped up against her mentor's shoulder, Félicie watched the snowfall outside, each tender flake dancing on the wind like a perfectly unique, crystal ballerina. Beautiful as it was, the picturesque scene before her did little to aid her weighted mind. She had so many questions; questions she both _wanted_ and _needed_ answers too.

As soon as the coach stopped outside the Le Haut household, Félicie was the first one out, grabbing the box with the door key in it and letting herself into Odette's rooms. By the time Odette herself made it to the door, the fireplace had roared to life, casting a homely orange glow around the room.

Hearing the front door close, Félicie grabbed a chair from the dining table and brought it closer to the fireplace, "Why don't you sit down for a bit… I'll help you unpack in the morning."

"Thank you," Odette smiled wearily, setting the last box on the table next to Félicie's. Noticing the way she winced with every step, Félicie took her arm and helped her sit down. Once she was settled by the warmth of the fire, Félicie brought a chair over for herself, all but falling into it.

"Tired?" Odette giggled, fond memories of her own debut floating through her mind.

"Uh-huh…" Félicie mumbled, the sound muffled by her closed lips. Subconsciously aware of the knowing smirk on her mentor's face, she forced herself to sit up properly, "Am I going to be this tired after _every_ performance?"

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it," the older woman assured her. "You really were great up there tonight."

Had anyone asked her, she probably would've blamed it on the open fire, but her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink after hearing the compliment. "Well, I couldn't have done it without you. Thank you…"

"You're welcome."

Neither said anything more, content to listen to the crackling fire as the dancing flames cast elegant shadows across the room. Just outside, the bitter wind had picked up in strength, and would likely leave a fresh coating of powdered snow in its wake. All across Paris, children were surely tucked into the warmth of their beds, sweetly dreaming as they waited for the joys of tomorrow.

The peaceful serenity was finally broken by an uneasy sigh, and a voice began to speak.

"I'm sorry for how…" Odette gave a brief chuckle, amused by her own lack of a better word, " _'un-Christmassy'_ it is in here…"

"It's fine, really," Félicie replied, her voice soft with a reassuring smile on her face. "This is pretty much what I'm used to anyway."

"It is?"

"Yeah… Christmas for us just meant extra dinner and some new clothes," she explained, then shrugged a shoulder in thought. "Unless of course any of the kids got sick. Then any extra funds went towards medicine. There were too many of us for them to handle a full-on outbreak during the winter."

Odette looked down at her lap, feeling all but sick with the sudden guilt. While the rational part of her knew there was nothing she could have done, that didn't stop her heart from aching for this little girl, sheltered and alone with no inkling of what it was like to be part of a family.

"I never knew it was that bad…"

"If it makes you feel any better, neither did we. We made do with what we had," the girl assured her, her smile almost too sincere for someone her age.

Odette felt the corner of her mouth tug up in unwavering pride, "Guess that explains why you're so humble…"

"Probably," Félicie agreed, her emerald eyes gleaming in the firelight. "I am looking forward to tomorrow though. Camille, Nora and Dora are going to teach me and Victor about their favourite Christmas traditions."

The former ballerina simply chuckled at her excitement, "I'm sure you'll have a great time."

"Me too." The pair fell into a comfortable silence, but Félicie soon found herself thinking back to her conversation with Camille. While it was true that her mentor had been anything but a social person when they first met, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was some other, more pressing reason behind her lies. "Hey, speaking of earlier, can I ask you something?"

Odette raised an eyebrow, a playful smile on her lips, "Have you forgotten the night we met? In all my years, I've _never_ known someone ask so many questions."

Félicie burst out with laughter at that, so much so that she almost forgot what she was going to ask her. Odette couldn't help a small chuckle of her own, before regaining composure, "Seriously though, what is it?"

"When Director Vaucorbeil invited us to the party, he mentioned how you were always too busy working. I didn't think much of it until Camille told me the truth…"

Odette looked down in regret, knowing she'd finally been caught out. Deep down, she'd always known that it couldn't last forever, but after a decade of successfully pulling the same charade, it came as a shock to be found out so suddenly.

"I know I didn't have much of a Christmas, but I always spent it with Victor. I just don't understand why you'd choose to spend it alone…"

At first, Odette remained silent, unsure of just how much she was ready to let go. Finally though, she heaved a sigh, forcing herself to speak.

"My mother died when I was very young, and the only other family I had was my father. He was a musician for the opera; he did write a few of his own pieces over time, but no one ever heard them… We didn't have much, but… we had each other. Then the fire happened…"

Félicie's eyes widened. No one beside Mérante had ever said anything about the fire, and even that wasn't much. A part of her felt like she should stop her; tell her that she didn't need to go into such a painful part of her life. But at the same time, she wanted to know. To understand why she'd lied for all those years…

"I was trapped on stage. Papa found me, and tried to help me escape. My father noticed the ceiling cracking and knew he couldn't save both of us. I'll spare you the details, but basically, I got away with a few scars and my limp. My father wasn't so lucky…"

Odette sighed, brushing away the tears that had rolled down her face, "Christmas is a time to celebrate family. After my father died, I didn't see the point any more…"

For quite some time, Félicie remained silent. She could only imagine how lonely it must have been; living off the same routine with no one to turn to.

"Have you… ever thought about what it might be like? Having a family again…" Félicie asked nervously, trying not to push too far.

Odette sighed, forcing herself to ignore the old wounds, "I have thought about it… But I know better than to get my hopes up for something that isn't possible…"

Félicie waited a few moments before responding, "Maybe it _is_ possible…"

Her mentor looked at her in confusion, unsure where the conversation was going. "What do you mean?"

The young ballerina shifted in her seat, nerves suddenly getting the best of her with the thought of _actually_ asking her mentor to adopt her. There were so many reasons for her to say no, and after secretly wishing for so long that she would, she wasn't sure she was even ready to hear her response.

"Félicie… It's okay…" Odette rested a hand on the girl's face, gently stroking her cheek in an effort to sooth her. "Whatever it is, you can ask me. I promise I won't overreact again."

Félicie chuckled a little at the memory, leaning into the warmth of her touch for just a moment, then straightened in her chair. Odette followed suit, waiting for her to continue, "Go on…"

"The day before the final auditions… After Mérante left, Camille started having a go at me for being an orphan, asking me questions she knew I couldn't answer. I don't know why I snapped at you the way I did, but I regretted it from the moment it happened. And when Monsieur Luteau helped me escape again, I told him to drop me at the opera. Not because I wanted to prove I was a good dancer, but because I want to be near you, whatever that meant…"

Odette watched her intensely, listening to every word. Taking a breath, Félicie continued, "I guess at the end of the day, what I'm asking is... Odette, will you adopt me?"

The silence was almost deafening. After a moment, Odette looked away, staring deep into the fireplace. Félicie waited quietly for any sort of answer, but just when she thought that none would come, she noticed the glisten of tears on the woman's face.

"Did I say something wrong?" she asked in concern, watching her mentor wipe away her tears.

"No, not at all. It's just…" A sigh shook from her body, heavy with emotion, and she shrugged a shoulder as she struggled for words. "I've always wanted to be a mother, but after everything that happened… I thought it was something I could only dream about…"

Félicie let those words seep in, then cautious asked, "So, does this mean…"

Odette nodded, a teary-eyed smile stretching across her face, "Yes… Of course I will."

Félicie got to her feet, dragging her chair next to Odette's, then sat down and hugged her tightly, tears of her own starting to form. The initial shock finally wearing off, Odette held her close to her chest as one final tear of joy ran down her cheek. After so many years of living with a broken heart, she finally felt whole again, more so than she ever had.

The pair stayed like that for quite some time, until Félicie sat up to face her, "So, now that you have a family again, does this mean that you'll come to the party?"

Odette sighed, absently tucking a lock of her rich brown hair back into place. "I don't know Félicie… I don't even have anything suitable to wear."

"The party's in the evening; we've got _all day_ to worry about that." Holding her new mother's hands tightly in her own, she gave her the biggest, best puppy dog eyes she could muster, " _Please?_ Everyone'll be thrilled to have you…"

The older woman chuckled, instantly falling for the childish ploy, "Alright, I'll come…"

Félicie smiled, hugging her once more, "Good."

Odette smiled down at her new daughter, then gently kissed her forehead, "Merry Christmas Félicie."

"Merry Christmas, Mum."

 **.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.**

 **Aww… Don't you just love it when Odette gets all motherly? Félicie's so lucky to have her. :)**

 **Just to be clear, I am going to take a few creative liberties for this fic. I understand** _ **Ballerina**_ **only had a limited budget, and if you ask me every dollar of that was well spent, but** _ **come on**_ **\- leafy green trees on Christmas Eve** _ **in France**_ **?! Here in Australia, yes, but definitely not in** _ **France**_ **. XD I did do a little research into popular French Christmas traditions though.**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, especially you Scar Stones. See you all again soon! :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**Well this fic did better than I expected. :D I'm glad you all enjoyed the first chapter, especially you Scar. You'll have to make sure you're logged in when you review this time, and wait until** _ **after**_ **class. ;p**

 **Anyway, here's Chapter 2. Quick shout-out to ellymango for helping me with the framework and ideas for this chapter, as well as for letting me use her 'bleating lamb' metaphor for Camille. Time's really run away from me this year, so I don't know when the third and final chapter will be up. Whenever I post it, I assure you it'll be worth the wait. (;**

 **I normally do review replies at the start of each chapter, but since this is only a small-scale fic and a number of those reviews were simply named 'Guest', I'll just say a huge belated Christmas thank you to you all. :)**

 **.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.**

 **Chapter 2**

Throughout the night, the tender twirls of crystal ballerinas had risen to a roaring symphony, the storm of the season at last making its grand appearance. By morning, all Paris was buried in soft white snow that crunched underfoot, and gave the city a mystical glow in the pale morning sun. Most had yet to venture from the warmth of their beds, but those who had held no resentment to the bitter cold. Only hope and joy for the time to be spent with those they held dear.

At the Le Haut household, a single door creaked open in the servant's quarters, slow and steady so as not to wake the young child sleeping inside. Closing the door with as much – if not more – care, Odette shuddered against the icy chill, willing herself on as her weak ankle prepped for an almighty scream. She barely made it three steps when the door adjacent to her own swung open, but for once she was met with a warm, friendly smile.

"Odette. You're up early," Genevieve stated as she stepped into the winter air.

She shrugged a shoulder in response, "Force of habit…"

"Well, either way, Merry Christmas." Standing beside her, Genevieve rubbed her hands together in an effort to warm herself. "Goodness, it's cold out here. Were you and Félicie warm enough last night?"

"For the most part. Félicie ended up crawling into my bed during the night." Odette couldn't help but smile at the memory, how she was instantly woken by Félicie sneaking under the covers with her, only to promptly fall asleep beside her; her first real taste of motherhood. "I just came out to get some firewood."

Odette turned to walk away, but was immediately stopped by a hand of her shoulder.

"Oh no you won't. That's solid ice down there," Genevieve warned, pointing out the large patch of ice stretched across the courtyard. "I won't have you injuring yourself on Christmas. Or _any_ day for that matter."

"It'll alright Genevieve, I'll be careful."

" _No_ , I'll hear nothing of it. _I'll_ go," her employer insisted, her tone firm and unshifting. "And from now on, if you need _anything_ , just let me know."

Odette sighed in defeat, but gave her a grateful smile, "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

With that, Genevieve turned to walk away. Odette went to do the same, but stopped as a thought popped into her mind, "You wouldn't happen to have any jam I could borrow, would you?"

"But of course, go on in," the woman smiled, gesturing towards the door. "Help yourself to whatever you need."

Odette smiled back, then went inside and walked to the kitchen. After a few minutes of searching, she managed to find what she was looking for, and returned to her rooms to find a neat stack of firewood just inside the door, and her new daughter still lost in a peaceful sleep. Quiet as a mouse, she busied herself with unpacking her things and getting breakfast ready, every so often casting a glance at the girl who had stolen and mended her heart.

At long last, Félicie stirred in her sleep, eyelids fluttering as she started to wake.

"Well you certainly took your time," Odette teased as she knelt beside the bed, using her cane for support. The corner of Félicie's mouth twitched – the closest she could come to a laugh in her current state – and Odette found herself running her hand over the girl's ginger hair. "Merry Christmas."

Félicie smiled back at her, her eyes now open and shining like stars, "Thanks Mum."

Odette's heart skipped a beat at the name – one she thought she'd never be so blessed to hear – before she got back on her feet. "Breakfast's ready."

Sitting up in bed, Félicie stretched her tired limbs. As she did, a familiar smell filled her nostrils, and her eyes lit up in surprise and hopeful excitement, "Is that-"

"Baguettes? Fresh from the oven."

"Really?" the red-head beamed, tugging on her shoes and rushing to the table.

"Well, warmed up really," Odette admitted, setting the jam and a plate of warm baguette slices on the table. "I didn't have time to make them from scratch… I know it's not much…"

"Are you kidding? I love it," Félicie smiled, hugging her tightly. Odette instantly smiled back, holding her close, before the pair sat down to eat.

"Today's going to be the best," the young dancer stated between mouthfuls, bursting with excitement. "I can't wait for the party tonight."

Odette's gut clenched at the mere mention of the party, but she managed to fake a smile. "Slow down Félicie. I still need to find something to wear."

"True…" Félicie thought for a few moments as she ate, then practically shot out of her chair. "Camille! I bet her aunt has something you could use!"

Stopping just long enough to give her new mother a quick hug, she dashed out the door, grabbing another slice of baguette as she went.

Though she initially laughed at her girl's antics, Odette soon felt her unease set back in. She'd told Félicie she would go, and she _would_ keep that promise, but that didn't mean she felt any better about it. While she finally had someone she could call her family, there was something – or someone – else on her mind this year; something she was far less willing to face.

Finishing her own breakfast, Odette made her way over to her boss's house, where Camille and Félicie were already gushing over plans.

"- It's a little plain for my taste, but it'll look perfect on you." Camille paused mid-rant, giving Odette a small – almost sheepish – smile. "Good morning, Odette."

Before she could even reply, Genevieve appeared beside her. "I hear you're in need of a dress. Come with me."

Odette sighed quietly to settle her nerves, then followed her out the room.

As soon as they left, Camille smiled at Félicie, "I cannot _believe_ you managed to convince her."

"I know! I'm so excited!"

The blonde chuckled at her enthusiasm, then lightly nudged her shoulder, "Come on… I want to show you one of _my_ traditions."

The young ballerina smiled, then followed her into a large sitting area, pleasantly warm from the glowing fireplace. Smoothing her skirt, Camille sat down on the soft carpet, taking a pen and blank piece of paper out of her pocket and placing them on a wooden board in front of her.

"So," Félicie started, curiously sitting beside her. "What _is_ your tradition?"

Camille took a moment before answering. "I don't know if Odette told you this, but my father – Edward Le Haut – he's died when I was four. So, every year at Christmastime, I'd write him a letter and burn it in the fireplace. It's my way of keeping his memory alive…"

Félicie smiled sympathetically, "It's a beautiful idea."

"I usually do this at Odette's place," Camille stated casually, touching her pen to the paper. "It was the one place I couldn't guarantee Mother wouldn't look."

At the mention of Régine Le Haut, memories from the previous evening flooded through Félicie's mind. Camille had already told them she'd been arrested, but that was all.

"Hey… With everything that happened last night, I forgot to ask you…" she began, carefully choosing her words. "Are you ok? About your mother?"

"Well, controlling as she was, watching her be arrested for attempted murder on Christmas Eve isn't the most _ideal_ situation…" Camille admitted. "But, the way I see it, she took a pretty hard fall when that scaffolding came down. She's a bit battered and bruised with a few broken bones, but ultimately, I'm just grateful she's still alive…"

The red-headed girl released a breath she hadn't realised she was holding, "That's good."

Camille nodded in agreement, then started her annual letter. Out of respect, Félicie refrained from reading the letter, instead watching the way Camille wrote. Each letter flowed beautifully into the next, every sentence evenly spaced and grounded to invisible lines. It was a hundred times better than what they were taught at the orphanage, which was really just showing them how to form basic letters.

After a while, a question began to play at her mind. Though she did so with great hesitation, she eventually decided to ask, "Do you remember him?"

Camille paused, sighing deeply, but didn't seem too upset.

"Not much… I know what he looks like from pictures, and I remember bits and pieces, but mostly all I have are the stories Aunty tells me…" she explained. "What about you? Do you remember your father?"

Félicie shook her head, "Never knew him. I only really have one clear memory of my mother and I don't think she was wearing a ring, so I guess my father just took off before I was born..."

"I'm sorry..."

"It's ok." The room went silent for a minute, before Félicie spoke once more. "What's it like? Having a father?"

"It's a lot of things… Your father is someone who teaches you right from wrong, and stands by you even when you make mistakes. He's someone who helps you find your place in the world, but stay's close so he's there when you need him. He's a little strict at times, but it's only because he wants what's best for you. And above all, he has faith in you, even when you don't have faith in yourself."

Félicie simply smiled at her words, "Sounds like you had a pretty great one…"

"Yeah, I did…" Camille smiled in return, then went back to her letter, "Your name; the first 'e' is accented, right?"

Félicie hummed in agreement, the girl beside her giving her a quick 'thank you' before she continued. Even without trying to read what Camille was writing, Félicie clearly noticed the way she repeatedly broke from her cursive flow, pausing just long enough to add a sloped dash above several of her 'e's.

"Why do you need to know how to spell my name?"

"My Christmas Day letter to my father is my chance to tell him about all that's happened over the year. I'm sure he'd love to hear about my first real friend."

She could have said just about anything else, and she'd still have expected it more than _that_. Yet, however surprising, the words brought a small smile to Félicie's face. "I'm your first friend?"

Much to her surprise, Camille seemed suddenly nervous, as if fearful she'd crossed some invisible line. "Well, I hope you are… I know I said some pretty horrible things to you, but I'd like to be your friend…"

Félicie's smile widened, "I'd like that too."

Camille responded with a heartfelt beam, then went back to her letter. After a few more lines and a carefully penned 'Merry Christmas', she signed her name at the bottom, smiling in satisfaction.

"There, done," Camille stated, talking to herself more than anyone as she picked up the completed letter. "Now I just need to let the ink dry a little bit…"

Félicie watched her for a few moments as she fluttered the paper in her hand, before noticing something on the back.

"Hold on…" Using her hands to steady herself, she craned her neck to get a closer look, confirming her suspicions, "Is that- _me_?"

"Huh?" Camille turned over the letter, revealing a pencilled image of Félicie's face and neck, drawn to the finest detail. Every feature was crafted to near perfection, not one hair out of place. The sole fault one could possibly hope to find was the arrangement of her freckles, and even _that_ wasn't too far off.

A bashful smile tugged at her lips, "Oh, yes… My mother's always put pressure on me to be a ballerina, but I've always had a thing for art. Every Christmas, when I write my letter to my father, I always do a drawing on the back. He used to love it when I drew for him…"

The red-head smiled in return, before Camille turned to look at the glowing fireplace. Taking a breath, she allowed a heavy sigh to spill from her body, then walked over to the open flames. Her movements slow and cautious, she carefully dropped the letter into the fire, then sat beside Félicie as they watched it burn.

After a minute, Félicie spoke, "You know, it's almost a shame to let it burn… It was really good."

Camille openly laughed, as though she'd never before heard something so amusing, "What, _that_? Please, I just free-handed that last night. It's not even one of my best."

Félicie looked at her in surprise, her head tilting slightly as her eyebrows raised, "It's not?"

Getting up, Camille walked over to a suitcase on the sofa and began rummaging through it. "Sooner or later, most of my drawings ended up in Odette's fireplace. But my favourite ones, I mailed to my aunty. She held onto them for safe-keeping."

Finally finding what she was looking for, she pulled out a leather folder and handed it to her friend, "You're welcome to look if you like…"

Opening the folder, Félicie pulled out a small stack of papers and began looking through them. Sure enough, each one held a drawing of some kind, all done to absolute perfection.

"Wow, Camille, these are great," she smiled. "How long have you been doing this?"

"Pretty much my whole life…" the blonde replied, her pale cheeks turning a delicate pink. "But I started taking it seriously when I was six."

Félicie handed the pile back to her, "Do you have a favourite?"

Camille smiled widely, as though she'd been waiting for that exact question, and began flipping through them, "It's was autumn, my mother was out late at the restaurant, and we'd had a bad storm that day. Mother was having guests in the morning so she forced Odette to stay up and sweep the courtyard. I was bored and couldn't sleep, so I decided to take the opportunity."

Just as the words left her lips, she pulled out a single paper and showed it to her.

"This is actually a remake. Aunty always buys me a set of coloured pencils for Christmas, but they're rather expensive, so I made sure to keep them far away from Mother."

Félicie could only stare at the drawing, completely lost for words. The paper showed the courtyard from above with a velvet night sky, the moon – a single spotlight – cascading down on Odette's pale silhouette as she seemed to dance with her broom, coloured leaves swirling around her feet.

"Camille, this is beautiful. I've only ever seen things like this in storybooks…"

Camille smiled at the drawing, admiring her work, "Between you and me, Odette's always been one of my favourite subjects to draw. Even with her limp, she manages to do everything with such grace and elegance. Plus she's _naturally_ beautiful; she doesn't have to spend an hour on hair and make-up like my mother does."

Félicie briefly remembered Mérante saying almost the same thing the day he found out who she was, before another thought occurred to her, "Is that why your mother hated her so much?"

"My mother had _many_ reasons to hate Odette," she corrected. "But, according to my aunty, there were three in particular. Firstly, she was jealous of her beauty. Second, she was so obsessed with everything being clean that _nothing_ Odette did was ever good enough."

"And the third?"

"My parents were an arranged marriage, and after Odette had her accident, my father went out of his way to help her. But my mother is exceptionally paranoid; somehow she took him trying to make things easier for his recently crippled employee as him having an affair with her."

Silence. Camille turned to her new friend, almost laughing at the blank expression on her face, "I know. I don't get it either."

Unable to form a proper response, Félicie fell back on dry humour, "Ok, note to self: never become paranoid…"

She half expected Camille to give her a questioning glance, but was instead met with a fit of giggles, "I know, right?"

The pair quickly burst into hysterics, before falling into a comfortable silence.

Félicie repositioned herself on the floor, swinging her legs round so she could hug her knees, "I ran into Mérante after he found out my secret; he told me about Mum. He said she was the best of her generation…"

Camille nodded in agreement, "Aunty says that too."

"I wish I could've seen her. I mean, sure, I've seen her do a few twirls while she sweeps, but…" Félicie sighed quietly, resting her chin on her knee. "It's not the same…"

Camille said nothing at first, unsure how to respond. Glancing around the room, her eyes again fell on the drawing of Odette, then lit with excitement as an idea took root in her mind.

"Can I… draw you something special? For Christmas…" the blonde asked, pulling a small rectangular tin and a blank piece of paper from the leather folder.

Félicie smiled a little, her spirits lifted by the request, "Sure, if you want to…"

Camille smiled knowingly as she opened the tin, selecting a finely sharpened pencil, "I know just the thing."

* * *

Odette sat on the sofa in what was, until yesterday, her former employer's room, tracing circles into the plush cushions with her fingertips. Genevieve stood just four paces away, her back turned to her as she rummaged through her sister's closet. She wasn't sure what the woman was looking for, but with every silent moment that passed, she could feel herself getting more and more anxious about the night ahead, especially about–

"Now don't you fret, my dear," Genevieve called over her shoulder as she pushed dress after dress along the rack. "I'm certain there'll be something in here you can use."

Odette sighed, trying to sound calm, "Listen, Genevieve, I _really_ appreciate all the trouble you're going to, but I just wouldn't feel comfortable wearing one of her dresses…"

"It's quite alright Odette. After everything my sister put you through, you deserve a night out," her new employer assured her. "Besides, most of these are dresses I _leant_ her, she wore _once_ , then _never_ gave me back."

Nervous as she was, Odette placed a hand over her mouth, trying in vain to stifle a laugh.

Genevieve smiled a little, muttering just loud enough for Odette to hear, "Anyone would think _she's_ the younger sister..."

The moment passed as quickly as it appeared, and soon enough, Odette was back to a state of worry. All the while, Genevieve simply continued through the extensive closet of dresses, combing through each one. "No. No. Heavens, no…"

Odette sighed, unable to take the mounting pressure, "Let's just face it, Genevieve. We're not going to find anything…"

At last turning around, Genevieve looked at her in concern, noting the way she anxiously hugged her waist. Sighing softly, she walked over to the sofa and sat down beside her.

"Odette… You may not be the most social person I've ever met, but you're anything but shy. And it's not like you won't know anyone there…" Noticing the way she tensed at her words, Genevieve gently placed a hand on her forearm. "What's _really_ troubling you?"

Odette sighed, knowing full well there was no avoiding the question. Régine may not have cared about her feelings, but Genevieve was nothing like her sister, except when it came to being persistent.

"It's Louis…"

"Mérante? From the opera?"

Odette nodded, "He kissed me last night, during Félicie's debut…"

"Did he now?" Genevieve's eyebrow arched, a little _too_ pleased with her answer.

"It wasn't like that…" Odette insisted, stumbling to explain herself. "It was just a little peck on the cheek. It was nothing _that_ special…"

Her employer chuckled, clearly unconvinced, "If that were true you wouldn't be blushing about it. But go on, I'm listening…"

"When we first met, I only knew him as this remarkable dancer that every young girl fell in love with. I used to tell myself I was better than that, but soon enough, I looked at him as though he hung the stars in the skies…" Odette admitted, trying to ignore the warmth in her cheeks. "After my accident, I thought if I broke his heart then and there, he'd move on and find someone better. But last night, after all these years, he kissed my cheek and looked at me the way he did back then. I don't know what he wants, and I'm terrified of… well, whatever it is he's looking for…"

Genevieve nodded, but asked cautiously, "Are you sure that's it, or is there something _else_ you're afraid of?"

Odette froze. She wasn't sure what answer her employer was looking for, but she desperately hoped it wasn't what she thought it was. "I… I don't, know what you're talking out…"

"I think you do…" Genevieve gently rested a hand on her shoulder, as though she were talking to a wounded fawn, "I _know_ , Odette… I have done for a while…"

The room went silent, if only for a moment, before Odette shuddered a gasp. No… No, it _couldn't_ be. There was no way she could've uncovered her terrible secret. She'd been so careful… _Hadn't she?_

"Was I that obvious?" she stammered, her blue eyes wide with fear.

"No. No, not at all," Genevieve assured her. "Honestly, the only reason _I_ noticed was because I have a friend who suffers the same thing."

Odette went deathly pale, another horrifying thought passing through her mind, "Régine, does she-"

The older woman shook her head, "Trust me, if she knew, _everyone_ would. I've heard what she thinks about women who can't bear children…"

Odette looked down at those words, her eyes brimming with tears.

"When did you find out?"

"Just after my accident… I was staying with a close friend of my father's; he's a doctor, so…"

Genevieve simply nodded, "I thought so. You weren't the best at hiding it back then…"

Odette sniffled, losing her battle not to cry. She didn't really want to know, but something made her ask, "What gave it away?"

"There were a lot of things that caught my attention. The dullness in your eyes, the odd days you seemed to be in more pain than usual, the way you tensed up whenever Régine neglected Camille…" Genevieve sighed, lightly squeezing Odette's shoulder, "I'd had my suspicions for a while, but the thing that really confirmed it to me was… that one day with Camille…"

Odette placed a hand over her mouth, her tears overflowing as she gave a broken sob. She didn't need to ask which day she was referring to; she already knew all too well. Edward had been away on business, leaving Régine – who was too stubborn to admit she needed help – to handle both the restaurant _and_ a cranky, teething Camille. By the time _that_ day arrived, Régine was so tired that she often fell asleep in her chair, leaving her little one to cry until someone _else_ took the initiative to see to her; something that made her blood boil in light of her own infertility.

 _That_ day, she'd been folding the linens when Camille started crying, bleating for her mother like a newborn lamb, but once again, Régine never came. Finally pushed to breaking point, she'd crept into the young Le Haut's nursery and sat beside the cradle, gently rocking it with her foot as she went on with her work. Sure enough, the soothing motion was all it took to calm the infant, happy just to have someone there. Just as she'd gotten up to leave, Camille managed to push one of her toys – a plush donkey from her father – between the cradle bars, sparking a fresh wave of tears from the lonely child. Setting the basket of linens aside, she walked back and picked up the toy. But as she returned it to the cradle, Camille managed to grasp her finger, cooing softly as her eyes pleaded to be picked up. Every impulse within her told her to do so, but she knew all too well why she couldn't. She didn't notice Genevieve walk in the room, nor did she stick around to ask how long she'd been there, simply dashing from the room as she fought back tears.

Odette was brought back to the present by Genevieve hugging her shoulders, but made no effort to restrain her tears. In all the years since she'd found out, she'd never confided in anyone. After so many years of silent suffering, it felt nice to have a shoulder to cry on…

"So, let me guess; you're afraid that Louis is looking to make you his wife, and that you'll one day have to tell him that-"

"That I'm nothing but a broken little girl who doesn't deserve his affection," Odette interjected, tears of shame streaming down her face.

Genevieve remained silent for quite some time, carefully planning her response, then handed her a neatly-pressed handkerchief, "My friend said that once too..."

Odette looked up as she took the handkerchief, bringing it to her tear-stained face.

"She was born into a quite wealthy family with a lot of upper-class connections. One of these families had a son her age, so in the interest of 'maintaining wealth', their parents brought them together as often as possible in hopes they'd fall in love."

Odette sniffled, wiping away the last of her tears, "Did they?"

"Yes. Very much so… A few weeks after they announced their engagement, she came to me in tears, wanting to talk. We went up to my room, and she told me his parents had started making comments about them continued his bloodline, and she was terrified because she was almost 17 and still hadn't had her first period." Genevieve paused, a tear of her own rolling down her cheek at the bitter memory, "Later that week, I snuck her out to a doctor's appointment myself, sat with her while he assessed her, and held her as she cried when he confirmed her fears."

The former ballerina bit her lip, reluctant to fall into another wave of salty tears. She hadn't been so lucky; she'd had no warning, no mother to explain how it worked, no inkling that her light, erratic bleeds were _anything_ to be concerned about. The truth had come down on her as cruel and as suddenly as the ceiling that killed her father, shattering the only thing she'd managed to salvage from the fire – her hopes for a future, and of building a family of her own.

"She was so ashamed and embarrassed, and terrified her fiancé would stop loving her when he found out… But eventually, I made her see that if he left her over this, it just proved his feelings weren't genuine to begin with."

"Did she tell him?"

"In time... When she was ready, she asked him to meet her somewhere quiet and they had a very long talk about it." A small smile tugged at the woman's lips, "Funnily enough, it was then they realised neither of them actually _wanted_ children; they were just under stress from all the pressure their parents were giving them."

"What happened to them?"

Genevieve chuckled, clearly knowing something she didn't. "Well, you must keep in mind I'm using them purely as proof that I understand, not an example to follow…"

Odette raised a questioning eyebrow, and Genevieve smiled in amusement.

"Changed their names, eloped to America and joined a traveling circus."

Odette couldn't help but laugh a little, torn between amusement, bewilderment and utter confusion.

"I don't know, I don't understand it either…" Genevieve chuckled. "I'm the only one that knows they're even _alive_. Albeit only just; they've both faced death on _numerous_ occasions."

Taking a breath to calm herself, Genevieve took Odette's hand in hers, "But at the end of the day, they have each other and they're happy; that's the most important thing. If someone _truly_ loves you, they'll do so regardless of your scars…"

Odette smiled shyly, fully aware of the true meaning behind her words.

"As for you with Louis, my advice would be to just… take it slow. You don't have to tell him _anything_ until it gets serious."

"And… if he rejects me?"

Genevieve just smiled, gently squeezing her hand, "Then at least you'll have your little girl…"

Odette looked up in surprise, trying to process what she'd just heard.

"Félicie told us you were going to adopt her," Genevieve explained. "It was practically the first thing she said when she burst in this morning."

Odette felt a single tear roll down her cheek, but she knew it wasn't from fear or sadness. After so many years of heartache, she'd grown to believe she was no longer worthy or capable of being saved, yet Félicie had done all that and more. She'd given her back a sense of purpose and a reason to smile each morning, and uncovered a side of herself she'd forgotten was there. She restored her hope, and brought light back to her life. But above all else, she'd given her something no man ever could – the chance to live those distant dreams of motherhood. And no matter what, she'd forever treasure her precious ray of sunshine…

"I'm so lucky to have her…"

"Yes, you are," the woman beside her smiled. "And she's going to be so happy to have you there tonight."

Odette's smile faltered, still slightly nervous about the prospect of going. It'd been so long for her, and the first step was always the hardest.

Genevieve seemed to notice the lingering discomfort, offering her a reassuring smile, "Look, why don't I come with you tonight? That way you won't feel so alone."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. Besides, I can't ask you to look after Félicie, Victor _and_ Camille."

Odette smiled, the last of her stress melting away, "Thank you, Genevieve."

"You're most welcome," Genevieve smiled, then looked back towards the closet. "Now, where to find you a dress at such short notice..."

As if on que, someone knocked on the door.

"Come in."

The door immediately opened, Camille walking in with Félicie. "Hey Aunty."

"Hello girls," Genevieve greeted, smiling at her niece and her new friend. "Having fun?"

"You bet," Félicie smiled, bouncing onto the sofa next to Odette. "Mum, you have to see what Camille made me for Christmas."

Félicie handed her a piece of paper, and Odette could only look down in amazement. There on the page was an image of herself and Félicie, dancing together in full costume. She couldn't quite place their poses, but she immediately recognised their costumes as being those of Berthe and Giselle respectively, knowing them better than the back of her hand.

"Camille… You drew this?" she breathed in awe, the girl blushing in response.

"Darling, this is wonderful. Is that Giselle?"

"Uh-hmm... Young Giselle and her mother," Camille smiled proudly at her aunt. "Félicie mentioned it's Odette's favourite ballet."

"So, any luck finding Mum a dress?"

Genevieve's face lit up, and she smiled to herself as she again looked at the drawing, "Actually, I think I know just the dress…"

* * *

Being Christmas Day in the City of Love, Dreams and various other things – just not pigeons, apparently – the usually-busy streets were as good as empty, most citizens either at home or at Church. That being said, the odd coach could still be seen pushing through the fallen snow, each driven by a mid- to old-aged man as he went about his rounds.

One said coach came to a steady stop, jolting as it did so, in front of a house in the better side of Paris, far smaller than most of its kind. After securing the reins and praising his horse on a job well done, the coachman got down from his seat and opened the door, carefully helping his young, crippled passenger down to the sidewalk.

Odette winced as her right foot touched the ground, clutching her cane in one hand and the coachman's arm in the other, but managed to find her footing. "Thank you."

By this point, Genevieve had helped herself and the girls out of the coach, and presented the man with a generous tip.

Tipping his hat to them, he climbed up to the driver's seat, calling back to them as he urged his horse onwards, "Merry Christmas, Mademoiselles."

Genevieve chuckled, opening her front door to let them in, "Ladies…"

Félicie followed her inside, Camille and her new mother close behind, and looked around at the spacious interior and standard furnishings, "Huh… Somehow I pictured it bigger…"

"Unlike my mother, Aunty chooses not to boast her wealth," Camille explained. "But seriously, what _are_ we doing here?"

"You'll see…" the woman teased. "Follow me."

Gesturing for them to follow, Genevieve led them to a room on the second floor, then opened the door to let them in. One look inside was enough to tell that this particular room had had _many_ functions in its lifetime, though it currently served as a make-shift sewing room. Most notable was a large collection of drawings – clearly done by Camille – pinned against the side wall, many appearing to be outfits or costumes of some kind.

"Whoa… You're _really_ into this art thing…" Félicie remarked as she looked at the various drawings, earning a giggle from Camille.

"Camille's taken up quite an art for fashion design in recent years. Last time she came to visit me, she drew this gorgeous red evening dress," Genevieve explained as she walked over to a covered mannequin on the other side of the room. "I loved it so much, I just couldn't help myself..."

Grabbing the black fabric, Genevieve carefully pulled it away to reveal her work, then turned to smile at her niece, "What do you think?"

Camille gasped in delight upon seeing the dress – _her_ dress – adorning the mannequin. True to her original design, the fitted bodice was made of velvet, with elbow-length sleeves and a wide v-neckline decorated with black lace and intricate beading. The floor-length skirt had an almost Flamenco-esque style to it, covered with short ruffles from the hips down, as though it was made from hundreds of swan feathers dyed a brilliant ruby red.

"Aunty…" Camille breathed, circling the mannequin once as she smiled. "It's even better than I pictured it…"

"It's lovely, Camille," Odette chimed in, causing the blonde's smile to grow even wider.

Genevieve stood next to her niece, thinking out loud as she made random gestures with her hand. "I mean, it's not made-to-measure; may need taking in a bit. But, with a little work-"

"Wait, you mean…" Catching her drift, Camille turned to her aunt, suddenly uncertain. "Aunty, are you sure about this? It's the first of my dresses we've actually made, it's probably ahead of its time, it's going to be seen by dozens of people…"

"Camille, darling, you worry too much," Genevieve smiled, lightly hugging her shoulders. "It's a beautiful dress, and let's not forget you designed it with Odette in mind."

"You really think people will like it?"

"Of course they will. Odette, would you mind standing over there so we can get a better look?"

Propping her cane against a nearby chair, Odette walked over and stood behind the dressed mannequin. Even without trying it on, it was apparent to all that the dress needed work; a bit too generous around the waist with sleeves that didn't _quite_ reach. But those were alterations well within their limits, especially with the hours they had at their disposal. Minor flaws aside, the outfit complimented her figure beautifully, the luxurious red fabric perfectly suited to her fair skin tone.

Genevieve hummed in satisfaction, admiring hers and her niece's handiwork, "Yes, I dare say this'll do nicely…"

Camille put her hands over her cheeks, index fingers pinching the bridge of her nose as she searched for a reason to _not_ go through with this. "Don't love it. Don't love it. Don't love it…"

Félicie came to stand beside her, stating simply, "You love it."

"I do love it. _Oh_ , but it needs- _something_ …" Casting a quick glance around the room, Camille dashed over to a large trunk, rummaging through it before racing out the room altogether, " _Aunty! Where's the black lace?!_ "

Genevieve chuckled at her niece's antics as she stood beside Odette, a knowing smile on her face, "This is going to be a long day."

 **.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.**

 **There, finally finished… I tried** _ **so**_ _ **hard**_ **to get this up for Christmas; so much so that I ended up sitting at my laptop in tears at 2am the day after. I'm sure someone's going to tell me it's 'not that important', but with all the emotional stress of looking after my dementia-suffering mother, it takes very little to set me off sometimes…**

 **Anyway, I hope this is ok. :) Since I didn't do the best job explaining it, my idea behind Camille's dress was that it would be an 1880's style evening gown inspired by what we today would know as the Peacock Dress in 'Love Never Dies', which is set roughly around 1900. I did try searching 'fashion in 1880's France', but you'd be surprised how hard it is to find images of dresses** _ **from the era**_ **, not just 'in the style of'. Oh well, I'll just leave it at that and let you make of it what you will. XD**

 **Ok, that's all for now. Again, I don't want to make any promises as to when the last chapter will be up, but I'll** _ **try**_ **to make it as soon as possible. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and look forward to hearing your thoughts. (;**


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